


Simple Things

by cobalamincosel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Beach, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Road Trips, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21818836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalamincosel/pseuds/cobalamincosel
Summary: A road trip, it turns out, is a bit harder than Johnny expects it to be, though he supposes a drive five and a half hours out of the city to get to the beach won’t kill him.There’s the issue of gas, of course, and the toll gates, and the expense, and also the glaring fact that Johnny is in love with Sicheng and Sicheng is fully aware and does not reciprocate.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 40
Kudos: 254





	Simple Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [10softbot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/10softbot/gifts).



> Dearest Erin,
> 
> I am so, so fucking sorry that this took forever to turn out. This was a baby idea I had shared with you months ago, and finally decided to expound on it so I could gift it to you. I wanted so much to write something that was sweet, so even if there is so much exposition on the mundane, I hope you like it still. 
> 
> This is a super, super, super late birthday present, but I hope you like it. I didn't want to half-ass this because not only am I gifting something to _the_ 10softbot, I'm also gifting this to one of my best friends, and one of the best parts of my year. 
> 
> Thank you so much for having been so present this year. I don't know how my year would have turned out if I didn't have you in my life now, but it would definitely be filled with less laughter and less love.
> 
> This is super super super unbetaed, and it's kind of boring, I swear, so know that all this is on my head. 
> 
> I love you so much. You're my ride or die. I hope you like this.
> 
> Happy birthday, bitch!
> 
> m.
> 
> -
> 
> Title from 'Simple Things', by Miguel, a song that I feel captures this fic in its essence.

Johnny plops down on Sicheng’s bed the moment he comes home from his last final for the semester without any ceremony, and armed with a plan: 

“Let’s go to the beach,” Johnny says, not even a question or a suggestion, but a definitive statement, a directive. “Jungwoo’s flying out to Switzerland with his folks and said we could take the family summer beach house if we wanted.” 

“Have you ever even been on a road trip before?” 

Sicheng’s raising his eyebrow at Johnny, who is looking at him eagerly, waiting for a response. 

“Well, no,” Johnny says, grinning from ear to ear. “But how hard can it be?” 

-

A road trip, it turns out, is a bit harder than Johnny expects it to be, though he supposes a drive five and a half hours out of the city to get to the beach won’t kill him. 

There’s the issue of gas, of course, and the toll gates, and the expense, and also the glaring fact that Johnny is in love with Sicheng and Sicheng is fully aware and does not reciprocate. 

Actually, that last bit is sort of a non-issue at this point, since Johnny had blurted out that he had feelings for his roommate a year ago, and Sicheng has managed to still be pretty chill about all of it, despite knowing. But this is different in the sense that this is the first trip they’re taking alone together since _The Confession_.

Johnny’s smart, smart enough to double major in European Studies and Philosophy, smart enough to be on the school debate team with Sicheng, but absolutely hopeless when it comes to romancing someone, especially his main object of affection, his roommate of four years, and the love of his life for the last year and a half. 

That’s probably part of why Johnny hasn’t exactly been able to move on from Sicheng: it’s not that Sicheng strings him along, it’s more like, the night that Johnny had come out with it and said, “Sicheng, I love you in a yes homo way,” Sicheng had stared at him, said, “I’m really flattered but I don’t feel that way about you,” and Johnny had sort of cried a little because he was worried that Sicheng was going to move out, request a change in roommates, leave school altogether— but no, Sicheng had left it at that. 

He’d patted Johnny on the back, said, “Don’t freak out, I’m not going to start avoiding you,” and they’d fallen into their same routine, just like always. 

Johnny had swooned to Kun the next night, flopping down on Kun’s bed while Ten brushed his teeth, and said, “God, there isn’t a bad bone in his body!” 

Which of course had made Ten snort, because he knew very well just how fucking savage Sicheng could be, whether he was opposition, or just trying to one-up one of their friends. 

But it was true, that Sicheng, despite his perpetual resting bitch face, was very much warmer than he let on, and warmer than anyone perceived him to be. Professors loved him, the dorm aunt that came over to clean every weekend and cook batches of food for them loved him, and Johnny’s parents loved him, which was the biggest deal. 

Sicheng had flown home with Johnny one summer, Sicheng’s parents having told him that they were going on a cruise for a month so he was better off staying in the country. So it went that Sicheng had spent the summer break in between their second and third years with Johnny and his family in Chicago, and it was weeks of them biking around the city, eating in obscure holes in the wall, trying every possible deep dish pizza imaginable, and eating too much $20 all-you-can-eat sushi. 

It was then that Johnny had come to realise, while they had sat with their legs dangling over the concrete of the running path along Lake Michigan, that he was in love with Sicheng. 

It had only taken two weeks for him to be sure, and another three nights to blurt it out, sitting in their dorm room. 

All that considered, however, this will be the first time they’re going to the beach together, and while it’s not the first time they’re going to be alone together since they do live in the same dorm room, it’s still something to have to see Sicheng glistening in the hot sun, his eyes closed beneath sunglasses, his lips—

“Hello? Are you with me here? Are you communicating with your mothership?” Sicheng says, tapping Johnny on his wrist. 

Johnny snaps out of his daydream, and he realises that Sicheng has already put his seatbelt on, the vents of the air conditioning turned at full blast on him, and none at Johnny, as it usually is. 

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” Johnny says, taking a glance at the back seat where they have a smaller cooler with the sandwiches he’d made the night before. 

“Everything fit in the trunk okay?” Johnny asks, adjusting the rearview mirror before releasing the handbrake. 

“Yep,” Sicheng says, scrolling through his phone.

Johnny pulls up Waze, the pleasant lady’s voice from his phone informing them that they’re all set. On-screen, their destination appears to be five hours and thirty-seven minutes away with the traffic expected for the day. 

Johnny hands his auxiliary cord over to Sicheng, who startles and looks up. 

“Really?” Sicheng asks. “You never let me choose the music unless it’s my birthday… what are you planning, Johnny?” 

Sicheng’s eyes are narrowed, but his little smile can’t be stifled. 

“What? I’m just being nice!” Johnny says with feigned innocence, backing up, and then pulling out of their parking slot. 

“Hmm, I don’t buy that for a second,” Sicheng says, despite putting the adaptor onto the aux cord and plugging it into his phone. 

“You’re going to be stuck with me for five hours in a vehicle, and a remote surfing town for three days and two nights,” Johnny starts, pulling out onto the highway and glancing at the right side mirror, past Sicheng’s inquisitive stare. “I might as well make this as comfortable for you as possible.” 

Sicheng hums to himself, choosing a playlist from his Spotify before settling on a song by the Local Natives.

“I can see you’re getting much smarter around me, John Seo,” Sicheng says, leaning back in his seat, content with his playlist of choice. 

“Oooh, careful there, Dong Sicheng,” Johnny says, left hand on the steering wheel and right hand pulling his Ray-Bans on. “You might just fall in love with me.”

Sicheng snorts under his breath and looks out the window.

“In your dreams,” he replies, singsong and light. 

-

Johnny does dream of Sicheng.

Most of the time it’s intentional, just daydreams where Sicheng, who has several kinds of smiles, turns the one he has reserved for Johnny into something fonder, something warmer, something that allows Johnny to put his arms around Sicheng and hold him in bed instead of how Sicheng usually will give him a high five or a hand on the small of Johnny’s back at most. 

But sometimes his dreams will be filled with color, the kind where blues seep into greens that seep into magenta, dreams where Sicheng is running and telling Johnny to catch up with him, and Johnny is running to keep up, the ground under him thick like molasses, and then silence. 

And then Sicheng is standing behind him, arms around Johnny’s waist, and they’re stood in front of a mirror, Sicheng whispering to him in Mandarin, in Korean, in English, “I love you.” 

(He has had exactly one dream where Sicheng rides him but that’s, well. He tries to not think about that one too often. It’s hard enough that he has to live with Sicheng. Harder still that he’d woken up with the most infuriating morning wood, and known that Sicheng was fast asleep on the bed next to him.) 

-

Johnny can see Sicheng starting to nod off on their second hour out, just as a pitstop comes into view. He nudges his roommate awake gently, and asks, “Hey, you wanna eat something proper here? There’s a bunch of restaurants. And a Nike outlet apparently.” 

Sicheng sits up, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and looks out as Johnny slows the car. 

“Yeah, sure,” Sicheng says. “There’s a Starbucks, too. I’ll get us coffees.” 

Johnny looks at Sicheng like he’s asked Johnny to marry him. 

They pull up to a parking lot that blessedly is only half-full, and they unbuckle their seatbelts simultaneously. 

“Your wallet,” Sicheng says, just as Johnny steps out of the driver’s seat. True enough, Johnny’s forgotten it by the handbrake. 

“What would I do without you?” Johnny asks sweetly, dimples in full view. Sicheng makes a “tch” noise, and says, “Fall apart, probably.” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” Johnny replies, and Sicehng rewards him with a tongue out before he walks away. 

They fall into step, the day pleasant at 9 in the morning. Johnny’s got his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, his car keys jangling from the carabiner hooked onto his belt loop. It’s just a little chilly, the wind blowing through Sicheng’s hair, making his bangs flop onto his forehead. Johnny reaches out and moves the hair away, and Sicheng thanks him. 

They turn into the Starbucks and go up to order together, Sicheng pulling out their Kleen Kanteens to hand over to the barista. 

“Okay so that’ll be two iced Americanos with a pump of hazelnut syrup each, for—“ asks the barista whose nametag says ‘ISA’. 

“For Johnny,” Sicheng says, just as he hands over his credit card. 

“Right! We’ll call out your name in a second,” she says. 

They take a seat with a small round table between them and pull out their phones, the silence between them a usual thing, a comfortable thing.

“Oh my god,” Johnny says. “Did you see?” 

“Yep,” Sicheng replies, laughing at his screen as the both of them scroll through the group chat that they share with Ten, Taeyong and Doyoung. 

They see the reactions first before they play the video Ten sent in. Johnny pulls out his AirPods, pops one into his left ear and hands the other one to Sicheng. 

Ten’s sent a video where he’s clearly in his parking area, and he says, “In today’s episode of ‘What The Fuck Goes On In My Building’” before turning the camera to face out, focusing on an unopened condom packet on the ground. “Why? Why is this here? What the fuck?” 

To which Taeyong had replied, 

Yong (8:35am): LISTEN,, AT LEAST IT WAS STILL WRAPPED

And Doyoung had said,

Doie bunny (8:36am): wait I thought that was ur ceiling?????

“This group chat is a disaster,” Johnny says out loud, and then types that in and hits send. 

10/10 (9:13am): fucking rich coming from u when last week u were the one who said ‘jesus take the wheel’ was ok to fuck to

Johnnyboy (9:13am): BECAUSE IM RIGHT

Sicheng is laughing, watching the messages devolve just as the barista calls out Johnny’s name. 

“I’ve got it,” Sicheng says, and Johnny settles back down in his seat. 

He watches Sicheng go up to the counter, his beat-up black tumbler already in Sicheng’s hand while Sicheng takes a sip from his own purple one. They’d gotten their tumblers on sale two years ago after Sicheng had admonished Johnny about his awful habit of buying a coffee literally twice a day, and just tossing the cup in the trash. 

“If you know you’re going to be buying coffee anyway, you might as well just get something reusable, Johnny,” Sicheng had said, peering over his glasses at Johnny after he’d watched Johnny stuff yet another plastic cup and green straw into the trash bin. 

Johnny had been properly chastised, and they’d gone out and found the tumblers on sale that weekend, getting two each, one for their coffee and one for their water. Johnny’s coffee tumbler looks pretty worse for wear since it’s the one that gets the most mileage. 

(Sicheng constantly has to remind him to drink water, and Johnny constantly whines about having to pee all the time.) 

“Food?” Sicheng asks, not bothering to take a seat anymore. 

“Food,” Johnny nods, sliding his wallet into his front pocket, and opening the door for Sicheng before Sicheng hands him his own tumbler. 

“What do you feel like having?” Sicheng asks, looking around at the fast-food joints and wrinkling his nose. 

“A proper breakfast?” Johnny replies, spotting an IHOP and nodding in its direction.

“Having dessert doesn’t constitute a proper breakfast, Johnny,” Sicheng says. 

“Come on, they’ve got other stuff,” Johnny replies, dragging Sicheng by the sleeve of his cardigan into the restaurant. 

“You say this but we both know you’re getting those waffles covered in chocolate syrup and whipped cream,” Sicheng laughs, clearly not buying into Johnny’s ploy, sliding into the cushy booth that the waitress directs them to. 

Johnny just grins at Sicheng, half of his face hidden by the menu he’s decidedly using as a shield against his friend. 

Sicheng is really big on them eating healthy. He’s big on quinoa, which Johnny hates because it costs so much and barely fills him up, though he has to admit that Sicheng is pretty good at making quinoa palatable. 

(Inwardly, Johnny swoons on the daily. It’s miraculous how far Sicheng has some in terms of cooking. It’s almost as if he never, not once, ever fucked up cooking rice in their first week in the dorms, since Sicheng is the one who’s better at cooking now between the two of them.)

So yeah, they eat pretty well for the most part, if Johnny ignores the nights when they’re both too lazy to cook and decide to have Uber eats bring over some pad thai or fried mandu or something. Their pancakes are always topped with some sort of fruit, always with minimal whipped cream, and always with significantly less syrup over Sicheng’s compared to Johnny’s. 

Sicheng orders bacon and eggs and toast; Johnny nearly dupes him when he orders the same, but with an additional order of banana walnut pancakes. 

Sicheng just gives a fond shake of his head. 

They fall into a comfortable silence again, a common enough occurrence between them that Johnny had been so worried about losing it when he’d stupidly confessed. 

He’d been so worried about making it weird that he’d ended up _actually_ making it weird for a while, and Sicheng had had to sit him down and look him in the eye.

“Can you please stop making it weird? Stop second-guessing your words, stop being afraid to be in the same room as me. I don’t mind being around you at all, not even now, knowing how you feel about me,” Sicheng had said. “Unless you’re too uncomfortable, in which case, I’ll move out. When you come home you're supposed to be able to relax, but ever since Saturday, you’ve been moving around the apartment like you’re trying to be an inconspicuous mouse and not talking to me.”

Johnny had gaped like a fish out of water, and then sighed, and said, “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to lose you, especially not as a friend.” 

Sicheng had stood up, ruffled Johnny’s hair, and said, “You’re not getting rid of me, Seo.”

Sicheng whips his phone out when their plates arrive, snapping a few photos of his meal to upload on the road, a tiny smile on his face when he’s satisfied with his shots. 

Johnny wishes he could snap a photo of Sicheng doing that, smiling to himself, but he keeps his own camera directed on the pancakes, taking a closeup of the walnuts resting on top of the whipped cream. There are many moments that Johnny wishes he could keep for himself, edify on camera, but he just closes his eyes, like shuttering them will help his mind process the image, the moment better. 

“So you’ve got this entire long weekend planned for us, but you haven’t told me anything,” Sicheng says, covering his mouth while he chews and talks. 

“It’s a surprise!” Johnny says, chipper. 

Sicheng narrows his eyes.

“Okay,” Johnny sighs. “I don’t exactly have much of a plan, but it’s the beach, and we have the place to ourselves, and apparently relatively shit signal for data so we’re going to actually get to be one with nature and not be glued to our phones.”

Sicheng presses his nose bridge between his thumb and his forefinger. 

“Oh my god,” Sicheng says. “This means I have to like, talk to you.” 

Johnny lets out an indignant, “Hey!” and throws his balled-up napkin at his roommate before Sicheng laughs softly, and says, “Okay fine, I’ll put my phone down for you, you massive attention-seeking child.” 

Johnny just smiles to himself in triumph. 

-

Sicheng takes over the driving for the second leg of their trip, and Johnny promptly falls asleep the moment he’s buckled in and Waze tells them they’re back on their way. 

He decides to turn the radio down low, even if he knows that Johnny can sleep through pretty much anything, like when a frat was wreaking havoc in the hallways in freshman year and they were banging on all the doors to wake everyone up, or when Sicheng had spent three nights in a row in a manic rush to prepare for his Philosophy 104 oral examinations and had to keep pacing the room reading his thesis statements out loud with his successive answers. 

The highway is fairly devoid of traffic at this time, and he’s glad to be able to drive at a comfortable 80 mph without having to keep switching lanes or breaking. He’s cruising at this point, the light snores of the man next to him louder than the c-pop he has playing in the background. 

Sicheng glances over at Johnny, whose mouth is slightly open, a little bit of drool beginning to dribble down the side. He’s always been a fairly heavy sleeper, for as long as Sicheng has known him. It’s endearing, as are many things about the man asleep in the passenger seat, but Sicheng hasn’t exactly let on yet. 

It’s a strange sensation, knowing how Johnny feels about him or at least used to feel. Sicheng honestly isn’t too sure anymore where exactly he stands when it comes to Johnny. 

It’s pretty common knowledge within their friend group that Johnny had definitely used the l-word in relation to him, but Sicheng had learned to roll with the jokes, the casual off-hand flirting. It was nice, even if it was sort of strange, this weird limbo where Sicheng didn’t ever want to lead Johnny on but didn’t want to lose what they had established in their years as roommates and as best friends. 

That’s probably what made things equal parts simple and really fucking complicated, Sicheng muses to himself. 

There are times when Sicheng wonders if the affection he feels for Johnny is more than platonic, but he’s never actually allowed himself to delve too far into it. Sure, he knows he likes men, but he’s never actually tried his hand at a relationship, and a few casual fucks with Ten and Kun definitely don’t count as relationship attempts. 

And Sicheng isn’t stupid, even if Ten tells him he is— he knows that Johnny is ridiculously hot, but Johnny's also ridiculous, and Sicheng thinks that crossing that threshold into trying something _more_ is a mildly terrifying thought, though why that is, he’s not quite sure yet. 

He has his right hand resting on the steering wheel, his left elbow propped up by the window. FKJ comes on shuffle and Sicheng turns the volume up just the slightest bit. 

Johnny stirs in his sleep, but doesn’t wake. 

“In one point two kilometers, make a left,” the lady’s voice on Waze directs him. 

Johnny sleeps on, as expected. Sicheng keeps his eyes on the road, Banks now playing from his playlist. 

-

Johnny opens his eyes to the glare of the noon sun, Sicheng humming to ‘Best Part’ under his breath with both his hands on the steering wheel. 

He becomes instantly aware of the change in the road, no longer the smooth gravel of the highway. They’re driving over a smaller road, and it hits Johnny that they’ve essentially arrived at the beach, the crystal blue just behind the row of buildings and houses along the smaller road. 

A quick glance at the map tells him that they’re about 8 minutes from their destination and Johnny sits up, pushing his shades up to rest over his head. 

“Oh my god, you were supposed to wake me up so we could switch out!” Johnny wails, stomping his feet a little bit like an upset puppy, making Sicheng smile. 

“You were out cold, and I’m wide awake since the coffee kicked in,” Sicheng replies placidly. “I’m okay, I’ll take a nap when we get to the place, which should be—“ 

He trails off as they turn into a neat row of houses that lead onto sand and sea. He scans the front porches and mailboxes to find a number 5, and, spotting it, pulls up to park the car in front of a small bungalow with a porch that has a wooden swing, the baby blue paint having given way to the winds that have weathered the entire house. 

“Yep, this is it,” Johnny says, turning his brightest smile on Sicheng, and making Sicheng smile back in earnest. 

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Sicheng says as he turns the engine off and pushes the door on his side open.

Johnny stretches all 182 centimetres of his body out, hands overhead as the sun beats down on their necks. He snaps a photo of the house, and sends it to Jungwoo with what little data signal he can get, and Jungwoo replies not even a second later with “ENJOY!!!!! 😋😉🤭🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴” because he’s a cheeky bastard who is fully convinced that this is the trip where Johnny and Sicheng are going to, as Jungwoo had said when he’d given Johnny the keys, “get it on”. 

Johnny glances at Sicheng who has their respective roller bags out of the trunk already, and sighs. He’s worked hard to not be so heavy about things, and he’s told himself over and over that it’s high time he got over Sicheng, but for every hesitant step forward he takes, he’ll shuffle back five steps whenever Sicheng does anything remotely adorable, which is like, all the time. So if Johnny keeps doing the cha-cha back to being in the heart-eyes zone for this man, well, he keeps it under wraps. No need to clue anyone in on this. 

They’ve got two huge coolers filled with alcohol and meat that Sicheng had prepared prior to the trip, some chicken and beef marinated in spices and sauces for the barbecues they’re planning on having for the evening and the next day. 

There’s definitely too much liquor for two people, but Johnny likes to hold on to the notion that they’re still young and they should enjoy life while they’re still able to hold their alcohol. It’s stupid and reckless, and exactly what they both wanted after the hell of the last semester. 

Johnny unlocks the front door and the deep blue door swings open to reveal a nicely sized living room, with a couch that looks like it could seat two people; a television; and a kitchen bigger than their dorm room. 

He brings the coolers into the kitchen while Sicheng searches for the bedroom so they can store their things. Johnny’s halfway through transferring the meat they packed in ziplocks when Sicheng calls out from the bedroom. 

“Uh, John,” he says. “How many bedrooms did Woo say there were?”

Johnny sets the meat down, wipes his hands on the kitchen towel hanging near the sink, and pads over to the door that’s slightly ajar to enter the room. 

He stares. 

The view is breathtaking, well beyond what Johnny had imagined. The photo Jungwoo had shown him doesn’t do justice to the fact that the bedroom door opens into a large space that’s filled with light. There are windows from floor to ceiling, glass panels that show the ocean roiling gently outside. He can’t believe this view. 

Sicheng is standing by one of the glass windows, eyes fixed on the sand and the waves. The sound of the sea is muffled. 

“It’s a one-bedroom,” Johnny says, finally taking a look at the interiors, his eyes landing on the—

“There’s only one bed,” Sicheng says, shrugging. “But that’s okay, I don’t mind sharing.”

Johnny’s heart is thudding in his chest. He cannot fucking believe Jungwoo would set them up like this. 

This is fine! They live together, this is alright, it’s not like they’ve never fallen asleep on the couch together or anything. This is okay. Given, for some reason, sharing a bed makes Johnny a bit nervous, but he’s okay. It’s not going to be weird because he isn’t going to make it weird.

“Are you okay?” 

Sicheng is standing next to him. 

“I can take the couch,” Johnny says, frowning a bit.

“Johnny, stop being dumb,” Sicheng says. “The couch is tiny. Neither of us would fit.” 

Johnny exhales, annoyed with himself for bringing it up, and constantly sabotaging his own attempts at Keeping It Under Control. Johnny has many questions, but the prevailing one is, “How is it that you can be so cool about this?” 

Johnny manages to hold his tongue and shake himself off. 

“Okay, if you’re okay with it,” Johnny says. 

Sicheng crouches down to unzip his suitcase open. 

“Johnny, when have I never been okay with it?” Sicheng replies. 

-

As had been previously advertised to them, the reception in the area does suck, and Sicheng figures it’s because they’re surrounded by huge cliff faces or something, and while he would normally complain about having to part from his phone and the internet, he has to admit that it’s quite nice being forced off the grid for a few days. He hadn’t realised how bad his posture had gotten or how much his thumb had started to hurt from being glued to his phone 24/7 until the pair of them had settled on the beach later in the afternoon, after Johnny had whipped up a quick lunch of eggs and sausages for them. 

They’re lying under the slowly setting sun, everything cast in gold. Johnny had had the foresight to bring these huge beach blankets that they’re both resting on. Sicheng lies on his belly, his shades perched on his nose while he rests his chin on his hands. 

Johnny is lying on his back, miles of fair skin starting to brown in the sunlight. 

It takes Sicheng by surprise, the image that Johnny strikes, when he turns to take a look at his best friend. 

It’s not that he isn’t attracted to Johnny. He’d have to be comatose, he thinks, to not understand the pull that the man has. 

Johnny is smart, so much smarter than he lets on. He’s talented, able to write music and his thesis like it’s nothing, like there’s no barrier between his mind and his hands and connecting all the dots where they should go. He’s charismatic, easy-going, charming like it’s second-nature. Fiery, when he wants be, when they’re both poring over text and especially when Johnny is government whip. 

Sicheng closes his eyes, and listens to the waves lap at the shore gently. The saltwater is still drying on his skin, and music is playing softly on Johnny’s speaker. 

It’s been a long time since he and Johnny have had this much quiet between them, devoid of their phones in their hands, devoid of any clacking typing on their keyboards as they both cram another essay that needs to be turned in for their majors. Sicheng actually can’t remember the last time they’d done anything this peaceful, or had Johnny so quiet, and it’s refreshing. It gives him a chance to appreciate Johnny in a new light.

This thought makes Sicheng swallow around the lump in his throat though because he can’t understand why all of a sudden, he can’t help how his eyes keep straying to Johnny’s reclined form. Johnny, who has his arms pillowed beneath his head, his skin shining in the orange haze from the seawater and sunblock. There’s a tug on Sicheng’s insides, this traitorous thing that calls out to him and says, “He’d let you have him if you wanted.”

See, that’s the fucking kicker. Sicheng knows what _want_ feels like, knows that it’s slowly been building for months and months, but in between school and work and his student council responsibilities, coupled with the prospect of fucking things up with his roommate and best friends by not feeling ready to take on the added responsibility of a new relationship, it just didn’t seem feasible. It’s not something he was looking for, and Johnny was good enough of a person to know that full well. Johnny is hot, and kind, and loves him, and Sicheng is a headass who can’t seem to get his shit together.

But the semester is winding down, and very soon, when graduation comes around, he and Johnny will be packing up four years’ worth of clutter and memories into boxes and looking for jobs and might probably no longer see each other. 

Sicheng halts his thoughts right there. He refuses to think about that, or what the ache in his chest means. 

The wind picks up and begins to get colder. 

“Hey,” Sicheng says. “You wanna call it a day and get back inside?” 

Johnny tugs off his shades, and Sicheng snorts. 

“Your face is all red around where you shades were,” Sicheng says. “We’ll have to get aloe on that.”

Johnny smiles and pushes up off the ground with his elbows. 

“Yeah, let’s get that barbecue going,” Johnny replies. 

-

There’s something wonderfully domestic about the two of them, Johnny can’t help but think when he watches Sicheng whisking a sauce up in one of the clear bowls they’d found in the cupboards. There’s a grill out in the front of the house, so they’re busy preparing all the things to bring out for their planned dinner. 

Johnny had wanted to do it on an open fire, he’d even considered buying wood and everything for a bonfire, but Sicheng had vetoed the idea outright, not wanting to shell out more cash just so Johnny could go full pyro on the both of them. 

So, a grill, and lots of beer became the final decision. 

Johnny is content to let Sicheng take the lead on this, obediently bringing the cooler with drinks out onto the front porch while Sicheng carries out a tray of chicken breasts and burger patties. 

They’re only two people and Johnny can tell they’ve gone a little overboard with the menu for the evening, but it’s the break and they’ve got a beach house all to themselves. There’s no reason to play by any rules, really. 

A few texts make their way to both Sicheng and Johnny’s phones, and Johnny spends a good five minutes on the phone with his mom telling her about the drive and the view and reassuring her that they’d be safe and not do dumb shit like dive into the water drunk, but the internet is still pretty much down for the count. 

Sicheng tells Johnny how glad he is that Johnny’s old school about saving music into his phone and refuses to rely on Spotify for their shit.

The grill is fired up, the coal burning hot and bright while their food cooks under the crackling heat. They’re sat on the porch with a beer each, and Johnny rests his head back on the wall behind them, the swing they’re seated on rocking gently. 

“This feels very Brokeback, don’t you think?” Johnny quips. Sicheng snorts again.

“Is that why you wanted a bonfire? For the full effect?” Sicheng replies, laughing a bit. 

“Shut up,” Johnny laughs. 

“So am I Ennis? Are you Jack?” Sicheng replies. “You wish you knew how to quit me?” 

He nudges Johnny with his shoulder, a small teasing smile on his face. Johnny just scoffs, and takes a swig from his beer. 

“Something like that,” Johnny replies before sighing dramatically. “But what can I do when you’re so hot?” Johnny leans in, batting his eyelashes, always such a casual flirt. Sicheng’s cheeks colour.

Sicheng laughs in earnest, smacking Johnny on the wrist with his hand. 

“In all seriousness though,” Johnny continues. “This is nice. I don’t think we’ve ever done anything this-- this calm.”

“Being in the city doesn’t exactly afford us much calm, now, does it?” Sicheng replies. 

“Yeah, and neither do our friends,” Johnny adds, thinking about how most of their weekends are spent in the company of Kun, Ten, Jungwoo, Doyoung and Taeyong. 

Save for Johnny and Sicheng, their friend group is made up of a wildly diverse group of people outside of their EU majors, which not only spells chaos, but also makes for truly eventful conversation, both online and off. Jungwoo is their political science major; Ten is in engineering; Kun, his roommate, is an anthropologist; Doyoung and Taeyong are both biology majors. It’s a wonder that they get along at all, but they do, even when they disagree on shit. 

But it does stand that when Johnny and Sicheng are back on campus, they’re usually caught in the bustle of being a senior, juggling thesis work, poring over textbooks in the library or in their room or in the cafe near Doyoung and Taeyong’s place.

On weekends, they’re dragged out with the rest of the group, and while it’s almost always a good time, ('almost' being the operative word since there was the unfortunate incident of them having the police show up at Jungwoo’s doorstep for karaoke that was blaring too loudly for the neighbors to be happy, and also the time when Kun and Ten had had a shouting match and Kun had been kicked out of the dorm room for an entire week), Johnny and Sicheng both recognize that the best way for them to stay friends with their motley crew is to take time away from it. 

When they’re not absorbed in being out with the rest, they’re sat on the floor of their dorm room either ignoring each other in lieu of playing on their phones, or marathoning a new series on Netflix, assuming they’re not trying to kill each other playing Mario Kart. 

So, all in all, this is nice. Johnny had been worried that the silences between them would stretch out into awkwardness, but it’s been easy so far. 

(If that makes his heart thrum a little bit with longing, Sicheng definitely doesn’t have to know.)

-

What easy conversation they have between them is made easier when Johnny decides to break out the tequila that Sicheng had specifically purchased for the occasion, having rationalised that if they got shitfaced on the first night, they’d have the next day to recover anyway before having to drive back into the city on Monday morning. 

Johnny, of course, had acquiesced, as he is wont to do often when it comes to Sicheng. 

They’re three shots in when they decide to move back into the house and resume their drinking in the small living room with the too-small couch and the massive rug in front of the widescreen television. 

The glare of the lights overhead makes Johnny’s eyes hurt, and Sicheng decides to shut all the lights off save for the kitchen and the two lamps that flank the couch. 

Johnny’s pouring them both another shot each when Sicheng leans back against the couch, his legs stretched out on the carpet, watching Johnny as he concentrates on not spilling the alcohol on what they’re sure must be a stupidly expensive wooden coffee table. 

“So, graduation,” Sicheng says quietly. 

It’s a topic neither of them has addressed yet, something that they’ve put off and put off because neither wanted to have to face the reality waiting for them at the end of the school year. 

“Yeah, what about it?” Johnny says, trying for nonchalant when in reality this very conversation has plagued him night after night since their last first semester began. 

“Will you be moving back to Chicago?” Sicheng asks. 

Johnny’s heart is thudding painfully in his chest. He doesn’t want to talk about this, but Sicheng is asking, and he also needs to know what Sicheng’s answer to his own question is. 

“I— I’m honestly not sure yet,” Johnny replies softly, looking down at the bottle Cuervo that they’ve barely made a dent in. “Mom wants me home, of course. And I don’t have anything against moving home. It’s just—“

Johnny trails off. 

This is part of why falling in love with Sicheng was the single most stupid thing he’s ever done in his 22 years of living. Sicheng is not from here. He lives in China. He’s leaving. He’ll be leaving soon. But more than that, it’s the ridiculous decision to still remain in love with him despite knowing this. 

Johnny can’t say it, can’t bring himself to tell Sicheng the truth, that he hasn’t figured out yet what he’s doing on the opposite end of graduation day because he’s foolishly been waiting to see where Sicheng would end up, if he chose to remain here. 

“I don’t know yet,” Johnny answers, because at the very heart of it, that’s the truth. “I haven’t figured it out yet.” 

Sicheng hums under his breath, like he knows that Johnny’s keeping something from him, but he doesn’t pry. He doesn’t press further. 

“How about you?” Johnny asks. He braces himself for the answer, braces himself for the hurt of the confirmation that their time is running out. 

Sicheng fiddles with the shot glass, a bit of the amber liquid sloshing against the rim. 

“I was actually thinking of looking for a teaching position on campus,” Sicheng says, and it’s like the rug is pulled out from under Johnny.

Somewhere in his head, a record scratches to a halt. 

“Wait, what?” Johnny asks, incredulous. His hands are starting to shake. Sicheng isn’t leaving. 

Sicheng isn’t leaving. 

Sicheng throws him a small smile, picks up a lemon slice, licks the salt off his hand, and takes the shot, like a fucking mic drop. 

Johnny stares at him. 

“You’re not leaving?” 

He knows that his voice comes out smaller than he’d intended, but Johnny couldn't care less. This is monumental. This is earth-shaking. 

“Unless the Trump government screws me over somehow,” Sicheng says. “I’m not leaving just yet.” 

Johnny’s hands are shaking for real, the tips of his fingers growing cold as he processes this information. Before he can contain himself, he lunges at Sicheng to wrap his arms around Sicheng’s neck, desperate in his joy to hold his best friend close like maybe if he’s a second too late, Sicheng will say sike or disappear into thin air. 

The hug catches Sicheng by surprise, and warms him in a way he doesn’t expect, but Johnny is there, and Sicheng gingerly pulls his arms out from where they’re squashed between them in order to place his hands on Johnny’s back. 

“Oh my god,” Johnny says, face buried in Sicheng’s neck. “Oh my god, are you serious?”

Johnny pulls back, his eyes searching Sicheng’s face for something, some confirmation in his gaze, and if this was a movie, this is where Johnny would lean in to kiss him, where they’d be exuberant and this is where Sicheng would confess that he was staying for Johnny, that it’s always _been_ Johnny.

But instead, Sicheng smiles slow and bright, and Johnny pulls back, remembers himself, remembers that there are barriers that he’d put up for himself to keep whatever the state of their relationship is at status quo. 

“Sorry, I just-- I’m glad,” Johnny says, clearing his throat, taking his own shot straight with no salt or lemon chaser. “I’m glad.”

Glad is an understatement, and he’s pretty sure that Sicheng knows it. 

“I was serious when I said wouldn’t be rid of me, Seo,” Sicheng says, laughing a bit, reaching out to refill their shot glasses. 

“No complaints from me, Dong Winwin,” Johnny replies affectionately. “None at all.”

-

The alcohol, Sicheng realises belatedly, despite having been his idea, turns out to be a bad idea. 

Though this was expected, given that they’d very intelligently decided to start their night off with beer, have a main course of tequila, and polish everything off with a bottle of soju each. 

The image of the k-pop star Irene on the back of the bottle of Chami-sul is swimming in his vision, and what’s worse is that when Sicheng is this inebriated, that means that Johnny is even more so, and when Sicheng watches Johnny’s nose scrunch up and the inside corners of his cheeks look like kitten whiskers, he thinks to himself that it would be so easy to lose himself in Johnny’s laughter, and his lips. 

Johnny’s laughing about the time when all of them had decided to watch Twilight Breaking Dawn Part Two while sneaking drinks of vodka in their tumblers and they’d screamed too loudly inside the cinema when Lee Pace had appeared onscreen because apparently not a single one of them had known that he was in this fucking movie. 

“Oh my god,” Johnny says, wiping tears from his eyes. “I remember when Taeyong called us up freaking out about where he’d left his stupid iPad and it was on the floor under his bed the entire time.” 

“Jesus, and Ten was like, ‘How did I get home? The last thing I remember was throwing up my japchae.’ I hate him so fucking much,” Sicheng adds, doubling over at the memory. 

Laughter has always come easy for the two of them, the company they shared free from tension since the first time they’d met, but Sicheng recognizes that right now, things feel a little bit like everything has shifted left of center somewhat, and objectively, he knows he should be pulling away. 

He’s too close to Johnny, too close that he doesn’t think he can stop himself from doing something supremely stupid and regrettable, like leaning in to kiss Johnny on the cheek. 

He really, really, really wants to kiss Johnny, and it’s this overwhelming emotion that makes him pull back before he actually supremely fucks them over. 

Johnny honestly deserves someone who isn’t such a fucking mess, who has his shit figured out, who can love him properly. 

Someone who isn’t Sicheng, someone who’s out to their family, and can give Johnny the reassurance that forever could rest in him. 

Sicheng knows he should hold his tongue, knows that he should pull his hand back, knows that he should not be thinking about how beautiful Johnny looks in the low yellow light, with his cheeks flushed pink and his dark brown bangs falling into his eyes while he looks at Sicheng a little unfocused, a little bit in what seems to be adoration. 

“You’re really cute,” Johnny mumbles, goofy smile in place as he rests his head back on the couch cushion, back resting on the foot of it. He looks like he’s about to pass out.

“Love you,” Johnny finishes softly under his breath, before his eyes slide closed and his breathing turns into a long snore. 

Sicheng’s insides lurch at the reminder, at the use of the l-word that Johnny has very carefully tried to avoid using around Sicheng much— a carryover of the ground rules Johnny had set for himself a year prior. 

His insides also lurch from too much alcohol, and the spinning of the room. He’s glad that Johnny’s fallen asleep. He’s not sure he’d have been able to fend off the urge to lean in if Johnny hadn’t, if Johnny had kept looking at him with hooded eyes that kept flicking down to Sicheng’s lips. 

Sicheng feels the ground beneath him take a turn, and the last thing he registers before darkness takes him like he’s feather-light is his head hitting something soft on the ground— is that Johnny’s thigh?— and a hand in his hair.

-

There are three points that Johnny wakes up to. 

The first thing Johnny notices is the sun. 

The second thing he notices is his head, and how pain lances through the front and back of it, like a drumbeat too loud inside of his skull.

The third thing he notices is Sicheng, whose head is in his lap. 

Johnny doesn’t want to move, but his stomach and his bladder are both working against him in unison, and his left foot has gone numb from the angle he’s kept it at, coupled with point number three. 

He gingerly tries to move Sicheng’s head from its meaty pillow, lifting it and pulling a throw pillow from behind him to replace his thigh, before he hobbles to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before emptying the contents of his insides in penance for mistakes he’s made in the last 24 hours. 

He tries to gather his cotton wool memory and parse if he’d done anything supremely stupid, since his last lucid thought was wanting very much to cuddle Sicheng, maybe kiss a bit, maybe fool around. 

A perfunctory assessment of the night’s inebriated events seems to bring up no recollection of inappropriate touching, so he hopes beyond hope that Sicheng falling asleep on his lap had been nothing but just that. 

He feels like absolute shit, like his limbs are made of rubber instead of bone and flesh, but when he steps into the shower, under the spray of the water whose heater is still trying to warm up the stream, Johnny begins to feel like himself again. 

It’s frustrating to know that despite feeling that he’s made progress in the last couple of months, the absence of a heavy workload has made Johnny’s feelings come back full force, like a dam about to break. 

He’s tried to stop the fantasies out of some desperate need to reign himself in, to show Sicheng the respect Johnny so fully feels like he deserves, but he can’t help that there really are moments when he loses his grip. Moments like now, standing in the bathtub with the shower running, thinking about how Sicheng’s laughter had filled him with this giddy sort of joy that he’s sure is more potent than any alcohol or drug could ever hope to replicate. 

Moments like how Sicheng had been close enough that the scent of his skin and the Burberry body lotion he liked to use so much had wafted over to fill Johnny’s senses the night before. 

Johnny closes his eyes and feels himself begin to stiffen in his hand, pounding headache be damned. It’s been a while since he’s had time to get off without having to rush things, so he’s going to take this opportunity while he can. 

He remembers the slope of Sicheng’s nose, the curve of his lips, the baritone of his low laughter. He strokes himself languidly, his cock beginning to fill, the head sensitive as the water trickles over it. 

And this is when Johnny remembers Sicheng’s revelation— that he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Johnny bites his lip, the strange mix of arousal and happiness making him warm all over, and just as he’s about to stroke himself to full hardness—

“Johnny, Johnny, can I come in? I really need to piss,” Sicheng calls out from the other side of the door. 

Christ, so much for that. Johnny exhales through his nose, and counts to three, before hopping out of the shower, hand over his half-mast erection to reach over and unlock the bathroom door before quickly jumping behind the shower curtain. 

Sicheng rushes in and Johnny hears the zip of his jeans get pulled down before he hears the trickle of the water in the bowl. 

Johnny’s only mildly mortified that his dick seems to be even more interested in Sicheng's near presence, like a fucking metal detector or a foot soldier, standing at attention.

God, Johnny really, really, really needs to get laid. 

“You okay in there? My mouth tastes like ass,” Sicheng says, finishing up and then flushing the toilet. “We packed Tylenol, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s in my suitcase,” Johnny chokes out, not wanting at all to engage in this small talk while he’s low-key fisting his cock so he can finish himself off. 

“Okay, what do you want for breakfast?” Sicheng asks, the tap running as he washes his hands. Johnny’s gremlin brain keeps warring with his rational brain, telling him to kick Sicheng out already so he can get on with it. 

“Anything! You choose!” Johnny says, trying to hide the shame of knowing that the only thing standing between his boner and Sicheng is the barely opaque blue bathroom curtain. 

“You sound off,” Sicheng says, voice starting to recede. “Okay, I’ll just make something quick. My head’s killing me.” 

The door shuts behind Sicheng, and Johnny exhales the breath he’d been holding, forlorn now that his dick has lost interest. 

He sullenly finishes his shower, toweling himself dry, realizing only belatedly that he’d forgotten to bring his change of clothes into the bathroom with him. 

He sighs, and looks at his reflection. 

There are circles under his eyes, almost blue on his skin which has browned since their afternoon by the shore. It certainly doesn’t do him any favours when he sees that his tan has taken the shape of his shades. 

Johnny groans inwardly.

He looks stupid, and his head refuses to stop throbbing, though the shower certainly has helped him somewhat feels less rag doll, which, all things considered, might be the best he can hope for before he’s had his coffee and breakfast. Jesus, at least he’s done his skincare for the day.

He wraps a towel around his waist, and walks out to the small hallway that opens into the living room, and locks eyes with Sicheng who glances at him and immediately starts coughing, sounding like he’s choked on his coffee, trying to get a breath in before setting the mug he had raised to his lips down onto the counter while he hunches over the countertop to cough and catch his breath. 

Johnny’s there in an instant, pounding on Sicheng’s back as if it will achieve anything. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” Johnny says, rubbing circles on his back now as Sicheng straightens out, red in the face with tears in his eyes. 

“I’m fine,” Sicheng wheezes, reaching out for his tumbler of water, breathing deep and wiping the tears away. “I’m fine, go get dressed.” 

Johnny is skeptical, but also knows that Sicheng will insist anyway, so he goes.

-

What the fuck? 

Sicheng waves Johnny off to get dressed so he can have an internal breakdown in peace, without Johnny’s prying eyes. 

Sicheng doesn’t understand why his reaction to seeing Johnny in a towel should be anything remotely close to this embarrassing. Hell, he’d gone in to piss knowing full well that Johnny was very naked inside the shower.

They’d spent an entire afternoon baking under the sun while Johnny posed around like a GQ model and being infuriatingly good-looking without even trying.

Sicheng chops up the bananas with the force he’d normally be exerting for otherwise less mushy fruit, caught up in replaying the split-second he’d seen Johnny all freshly showered and pink-skinned and soft, sleepy eyes on Sicheng. 

This is getting out of hand. 

He’s just going to have to face the truth at hand: that Sicheng has spent the semester holding back emotion and feeling that extends beyond companionable affection for Johnny Suh, but now that it’s over, now that the worst of their respective college years are coming to a steady halt, his mind and his heart have arrived at the conclusion that all the nights Johnny has come home with a little snack for them to share, that all the mornings Johnny has prepared their coffees for them, all the moments in between, have all amounted to the irrefutable fact that maybe, just maybe, Sicheng loves him too.

Well, that’s definitely a soul-shaking realization to make when you’re hungover and in the middle of frying an egg. 

He smells the burning before he sees it, so caught up in the revelation of it, so he hurriedly takes the pan off the stove, and sets it on the marble counter, before he can run his hands over his face, and get his breathing under control.

Sicheng has never been in love. 

He knows that he’s capable, knows that perhaps his belief that he’s meant to be alone is a flawed one. Long-term relationships were never a priority for him. He didn’t actively shun them, it’s just that there weren’t too many opportunities, or he wasn’t interested, or he just wanted something simple and easy that didn’t require commitment. 

Trading handjobs with Ten and sleeping with Kun once or twice didn’t count in Sicheng’s book, not really, more like just a means to an end than anything that could mean something deeper. 

Sicheng has his hands on Johnny’s French press, and marvels at the fact that without him realising it, Sicheng has managed to fit himself into the mold of Johnny’s life without any fanfare, any struggle. 

He pushes the plunger down and watches the coffee grounds swirl around in the hot water while the scent of Johnny’s Arabica wafts up. 

Sicheng wonders what Johnny would say if he tried to tell him how he felt, if Johnny would believe him. If Johnny still feels today how he said he’d felt a year back. Surely, Johnny’s moved on somehow? Surely, Sicheng’s timing must be all off? 

And then he remembers the hug. 

He remembers it in the way it happens in those love stories, where the music slows and so do the movements, where some soft indie folk shit plays while the smallest details seem to be heightened: Johnny’s shampoo, Sicheng’s cheek against the side of Johnny’s head, the grip of Johnny’s arms around his neck, how close they were that he could feel Johnny’s inhale and exhale. 

Sicheng pours the coffee into Johnny’s mug, emptying half of the French press’ contents into it, and setting aside the rest to steep some more, as Johnny is used to. 

_Jesus_ , Sicheng thinks. _I can even make his coffee blindfolded._

The door to the bedroom opens up, and Johnny steps out, bare feet barely making a sound on the polished wood floors. He’s dressed in his beach shorts and a white t-shirt, and Sicheng wants to walk out onto the shore and drown himself because Johnny looks so, so handsome, and Sicheng is so, so fucking pathetic. 

Sicheng wordlessly hands Johnny his mug, and holds out the bottle of Tylenol and Johnny takes both gratefully. 

“Why did we think we could handle that?” Johnny groans, the space between his eyebrows wrinkling into a frown, making him look cuter than— _Get a goddamn grip, Dong Sicheng,_ he tells himself. 

“Because we’re in denial about our age and like to pretend that we can still contain the same amount of alcohol we used to consume when we had fake IDs,” Sicheng says, watching Johnny’s Adam’s apple bob up and down while he drinks his coffee. 

Johnny smacks his lips, lets out a little “Aaahhhh” when he sets the mug down. 

“Perfect, like always,” Johnny says, and walks around the breakfast island to help Sicheng plate the food. 

Sicheng hides his smile by taking a sip from his own coffee. He’ll take the win. 

-

Johnny can’t do this. 

Like, okay, he’s gonna do this, obviously, but he needs to actively start pretending that he has horse blinders or something, because Sicheng’s figure slicing through water while he swims further from the shore is a stark reminder that Sicheng is more ripped than his thin figure implies, and that the tiny fucking red swim shorts that he’s got on are doing absolutely nothing to prevent Johnny from popping his second boner of the day. 

But also, he’s starting to feel the old strain, the longing, and it’s not doing Johnny any favours that inexplicably, Sicheng has been a little bit more touchy today than he usually is. 

It makes Johnny feel kind of unhinged because he’s starting to cave under the strain of it. A lingering grasp on Johnny’s bicep when he’d lost his footing on the way to the beachfront; walking closer to Johnny when they’d settled on a spot near calmer waves. 

And Johnny swears, he swears that he caught Sicheng staring at his lips earlier at breakfast. Johnny had been worried that there was something in his teeth, so he’d asked, and Sicheng had snapped out of it and looked him in the eye. 

But Johnny refuses to read into it. 

He can’t read into it. 

He’d given up on hoping for anything the moment Sicheng had said he didn’t feel the same way, and Johnny likes to believe that he’s got it under control already. 

Never mind the fact that he hasn’t been able to bring himself to even sleep with anyone else since then, let alone consider a romantic relationship with anyone who isn’t the man who takes up half the space in his room. 

Foolishly, Johnny thinks, Sicheng takes up the entire space of his heart. 

Johnny cringes in disgust. That was too pathetic even for him. 

He swims out and lets the waves wash over him. 

This vacation was meant to be a way to unwind, to let go of their stress, and instead all it’s done is managed to remind Johnny that this man that he’s sharing this sea with is someone that’s just short out of reach. 

But then again, Johnny figures, he could be content to just keep having Sicheng in his life. It would be enough. They’re essentially joined at the hip already anyway. 

Sure, he’d give anything to have Sicheng look at him the way he sometimes does when he’s being fond. Would give anything to link pinkies when they walk to the theatre to catch a movie. Would give anything to take Sicheng back home and introduce him to his family as his boyfriend.

But it’s enough, he thinks. 

It’s more than enough that he has Sicheng like this, the man who knows that Johnny works better when it’s the dead of night, the man who will curl up in the corner of his bed with his massive Bose headphones over his ears when he’s particularly engrossed in his paper, the man who makes the perfect cup of Johnny’s coffee, just the way he likes it. 

Johnny catches up, manages to paddle over to where Sicheng is floating on the water, belly up. 

The sea changes colour beneath them, much darker than he’s used to. Johnny takes a steadying breath as he paddles in place, bobbing up and down in the water until Sicheng rights himself up and splash water in Johnny’s direction. 

The wind picks up, cold on their exposed skin, and Johnny reaches out with his hand— for what, he isn’t sure, but he definitely does not expect Sicheng to link his fingers, bring their hands palm to palm and use that to bring his body closer to Johnny’s. 

They’re swimming so close, legs beneath them kicking in the water, cycling in place while they keep their heads above water. 

Johnny refuses to speak, just keeps his eyes on Sicheng’s placid face, at the water clinging to his lashes, the small smile on Sicheng’s lips, that same smile Johnny wishes was always directed at him. 

“Hey,” Sicheng starts. He’s breathing heavy, the effort of staying steady in deep water making itself known. “You know how I hate it when you’re right about shit?” 

Johnny’s trying to keep his own breathing measured. 

Sicheng is so, so fucking close. 

“Yeah,” Johnny replies. “You’re big on being the one gets to gloat about being right, not me. Why?” 

“Maybe you were right,” Sicheng says, and his hand is on Johnny’s neck, thumb stroking against Johnny’s jugular.

“About what?” Johnny licks the salt from his lips, can’t take his eyes off of Sicheng’s. 

“About me falling in love with you,” Sicheng replies. 

Around them, the sound of lapping waves fade.

Above them, the sun, and an endless, cloudless, beautiful California sky. 

“You’re serious,” Johnny says, disbelief and delirious joy buoying him up. “You’re— you’re not joking—“

“I joke about a lot of things,” Sicheng replies, brushing Johnny’s dripping bangs from his forehead. “But I would never joke about this.” 

“I— hold on,” Johnny laughs out incredulously, bringing Sicheng in closer until their bodies are flush against each other. “I just— I need to know you’re real and not just a really truly elaborate figment of my imagination.”

“You want me to prove I’m real?” Sicheng laughs, wrapping his arms around Johnny’s neck. “Would you like me to take on the phenomenology of kissing you?” 

“Ooh, God, I love how you’ve already started with the dirty talk,” Johnny replies. 

He’s nose to nose with Sicheng, and Sicheng is laughing, gentle like the water that splashes around them. 

“Can we head back to shore now?” Johnny asks. “There’s something I gotta do and I can’t do it here.”

Sicheng grins, pushes away to reach his arms out, turning his body, ready to freestyle back to the sand. Johnny knows it before he says it, but he’s still a second too late just as Sicheng shouts, “Race you!” 

Johnny dives headfirst into the water, eyes closed every time his head is submerged, and he uses his legs, his arms, his lungs to paddle one hand then the other, to kick out at the water to catch up to Sicheng, Sicheng, who loves him; Sicheng who is alive, who carries all the emotion that Johnny’s favourite song makes him feel and then some; Sicheng who is steady, who has a sharp tongue, who keeps Johnny on his toes. 

He swims and he swims until the shore speeds closer to him, and then he’s run out of depth, his feet hit sand and rocks and he’s running, he’s chasing after Sicheng who has already gotten on land faster, and he reaches out, wraps his arms around Sicheng’s waist, and Sicheng laughs, laughs loud and hard, harder than he has in all the years Johnny has known him. 

Johnny has Sicheng in his grasp, carrying him while Sicheng screams about being abducted by a yeti, and Johnny is so, so in love with him. He is so fucking in love, he cannot even begin to comprehend that Sicheng loves him back. 

Sicheng loves Johnny and it’s like the entire world explodes with promise and possibility. 

Sicheng is kicking his feet out, demanding that Johnny put him down, laughter carrying in the wind on this California beach, and it’s like no one else matters, not the white neighbours that are asleep on their mats, skin salmon-pink; not the children making sandcastles far off from them; not the two corgis barking at the crashing waves. 

The world lies here, in the space between Sicheng and Johnny when Johnny sets him down, when Sicheng drapes his arms over Johnny’s shoulders, when he raises his eyebrow and says, “Well? Isn’t this the part where you kiss me?” 

So Johnny does, kisses Sicheng slow and chaste, just a press of lips, wet with spit and salt, until Sicheng deepens the kiss, presses in harder, runs his tongue on the seam of Johnny’s lips until Johnny is gasping into his mouth, bringing him closer to him with his arms. Johnny has his hands on Sicheng’s waist, and he takes that as a sign to pull him in, and Johnny can imagine no sweeter taste than this. There’s wind in their hair, blowing stronger now so there’s noise in their ears, but that doesn’t matter either. All Johnny can hear is his heart racing and Sicheng’s soft sigh just as he pulls away, his lips glistening in the sun. 

He takes Johnny’s hand wordlessly, and Johnny follows like a dog on a leash, like he’s helpless, and he is, truly, in the face of Sicheng taking the lead. 

He presses himself against Sicheng’s back when Sicheng fumbles with the key on the carabiner on his shorts to unlock the door, mouthing at his neck, small kisses that make gooseflesh rise on Sicheng’s skin and make him shudder before pressing his ass into Johnny’s crotch. There’s some sand that they’re tracking onto the floor, but Sicheng doesn't mind, and Johnny can’t bring himself to do so either. 

They’re not rushing, even if Johnny feels like he’s spinning off his axis. He hadn’t known he was waiting for this until now, and he’s not about to screw anything up by pushing where Sicheng isn’t ready to go. 

Sicheng is pulling him into the bathroom, and Johnny picks up fairly quickly that he’s probably not going to have go as slow as he expected. 

“Johnny,” Sicheng says, voice so low and wrecked it goes straight to Johnny’s cock while his teeth rake against Johnny’s jaw. “I need you to kiss me like you mean it.” 

Johnny prides himself in being extremely obedient. 

“Anything you want me to do, Sicheng,” Johnny says, husky, whiskey-smooth, and kisses Sicheng with a hunger he had forgotten he could possess. “Anything.”

Johnny takes Sicheng jaw in his hands, devours him, licks into him like he needs to taste every crevice. He pushes Sicheng against the sink, and presses his hips into Sicheng’s crotch, and oh, that’s lovely, feeling how hard Sicheng is, knowing that he’s the reason why. 

Johnny is aching in his shorts, but the friction that Sicheng moving his hips makes Johnny’s own stutter, grinding down for more purchase. 

Johnny can barely keep a coherent thought, and it feels like his body moves of its own accord. His mind still hasn’t caught up to comprehend that he is actually here, that he has his tongue tracing Sicheng’s supple skin. 

Sicheng’s hands are everywhere, gripping hard on Johnny’s arms, on his ass. He takes his teeth and rakes them over Johnny’s lower lip, and it’s exhilarating to know that Sicheng has no qualms about showing Johnny exactly what he wants and how he wants it. 

They make their way to the bathtub, long legs climbing over the ledge of it, the pair steadying each other in their need to keep their hands on each other. 

Johnny turns the shower on, warm water cascading over the both of them, and Sicheng pulls back to gently stroke his thumbs over Johnny’s cheekbones, his closed eyes, trying to wash the salt water from their skin. Sicheng’s hands are softer than Johnny had ever dared to imagine, firm when their movements are purposeful. Nimble where they go from Johnny’s hair to the drawstring of Johnny’s blue shorts that are tented between them and pull at the velcro holding it up.

“Excited, are we?” Sicheng teases, glancing down at the evidence of both their erections, and Johnny huffs out a laugh under his breath. 

“Considering that I’ve been wanting to touch you for well over a year now, I’ve got an excuse,” Johnny says, bringing his hand up to tweak Sicheng’s nipple between his fingers, causing him to groan out and press his hardness in closer. “What’s yours?” 

“I’m not blind, you buffoon,” Sicheng says, panting softly as Johnny finds a pace to keep grinding his hips against Sicheng’s. “I don’t think you even realise how hot you are.” 

“Yeah?” Johnny asks, pulling Sicheng’s shorts down, glancing to see how Sicheng’s beautiful cock springs up from its confines. Jesus, he can’t wait for Sicheng to fuck his mouth. 

“Yeah,” Sicheng says. “When you walk around shirtless in the dorm,” he punctuates this with a kiss to Johnny’s collarbone. “When you’re eviscerating opposition,” Sicheng says, which makes Johnny laugh. “When you’re looking at me and you don’t think I can see you, can’t feel your eyes on me.” 

Johnny closes his eyes as Sicheng’s words wash over him and as Sicheng works his cock out of his shorts which fall to pool around his ankles. They both step out of their clothing, and Johnny breaks their kiss momentarily to throw both their trunks out onto the floor by the sink. 

Sicheng presses down on the plunger that keeps the water from draining. The sand they’d tracked in has washed away, and they kiss languidly until the tub begins to fill to their knees. 

Johnny lowers himself slowly to recline on the farther end of the tub, which can barely contain his legs. Sicheng follows suit, and straddles Johnny in the water. 

The sensation is so much. Johnny’s skin is burning in the water from Sicheng’s touch, from his movements. Johnny can feel how his cock slides against the cleft of Sicheng’s ass, and he wants nothing more than to bury himself in Sicheng’s heat, which is, of course, when he realises that—

“Fuck, I don’t have any condoms,” Johnny says, knocking his head back on the porcelain. 

Sicheng glances down at Johnny, a small smile on his face. 

“I would have wondered at your boldness if you had any,” Sicheng replies, and kisses Johnny again once before leaning in to whisper. 

“You want me?” Sicheng asks, breath hot on the shell of Johnny’s ear. 

“All the time,” Johnny replies, breathless, before Sicheng uses his tongue to bring Johnny’s earlobe between his teeth and bites down, making Johnny moan, and thrust up. 

“Good,” Sicheng replies. “I do, too, now. I can be patient.” 

And Johnny is equal parts frustrated and elated, because this sounds like this isn’t a one-off. This holds the promise of tomorrow and tomorrow’s tomorrow and all the days thereafter. Patience, Sicheng says. Like they have time. 

Johnny keeps his eyes locked on Sicheng’s steady gaze as he moves his hand from Sicheng’s thigh to his cock, which twitches at his touch. 

Fuck, he didn’t realise how much he’d actually wanted Sicheng until just now, didn’t realise how much his fantasies had been unable to capture when faced with the real thing: Sicheng’s mouth in a small ‘o’ as he pants to catch his breath while Johnny strokes his cock slow and firm. 

Sicheng starts a steady pace, grinding down on Johnny’s cock, the head of it catching on the rim of his entrance. Johnny matches his pace with his hand, watches the slow drip of water from Sicheng’s hairline to his neck and licks near Sicheng’s jugular. 

“Faster,” Sicheng says, and Johnny complies, completely entranced by how Sicheng looks at him with his eyes downcast, lashes stark against his milky skin. Johnny makes sure to vary his grip, liking how responsive Sicheng is, how his moves in Johnny’s lap. Johnny thinks about how he wants nothing but to spend hours eating Sicheng out nice and slow, and finger him until he comes untouched. 

Johnny finds the puckered hole using his other hand, the tip of his index finger pressing around Sicheng’s entrance just as his rubs the pad of his other thumb on Sicheng’s cockhead, which makes Sicheng clench his thighs tighter on either side of Johnny’s hips. 

“Fuck,” Sicheng says, breathless, barely coherent. “Fuck, I wish I could ride you.” 

Johnny surges up capture Sicheng’s lips in his own, horny beyond belief. 

“Make me cum, Johnny,” Sicheng says, a firm command that’s offset by the little whine that escapes his mouth when Johnny starts jacking him in earnest almost immediately. “Good boy.”

And wow, does that do things that Johnny didn’t expect. It’s like lust fires up inside of him, and all of a sudden he’s gripping Sicheng by the hips. 

“Up, up,” Johnny says. “Get out of the tub.” 

He’s urgent, like the slowness with which they’ve taken to get here has finally, finally made him impatient. 

Sicheng startles, but laughs anyway, and stands up before reaching out to help Johnny get upright. 

They don’t bother with towels, there isn’t any time to when Johnny is pulling Sicheng to the bedroom and pulling him to the bed. There’s fire in Johnny’s belly, and a single-minded focus on Sicheng and his beautiful body stretched out and wet on the bed, his cock a lovely shade of red, filled up, engorged and making Johnny’s mouth water. 

“I’ve done my best to be respectful of you,” Johnny says, crawling up from the foot of the bed, hovering over Sicheng’s legs, willfully telling himself to look into the other man’s eyes and not just let him monkey brain take over to stare at Sicheng’s beautiful, gorgeous cock. “But you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to suck you off. How often I’ve thought about just offering to when I’d hear you jack off in the bathroom.” 

Sicheng flushes all over at this, splotches of red on his cheeks, on his chest. Johnny watches, entranced, while Sicheng plays with his nipples, lower lip caught between his teeth, legs splayed open as Johnny reaches out to stroke Sicheng’s cock lightly. 

“You heard me?” Sicheng asks, voice husky. 

“You weren’t exactly being discreet,” Johnny replies, teasing in his voice. “I always wondered what you thought of, what would get you hard enough to jack off and barely contain yourself, even if you knew I was in the room.” 

“I didn’t know I was— I didn’t know it was loud enough for you to hear me,” Sicheng says. “But maybe I didn’t care.” 

Johnny lowers himself, and gives the head of Sicheng’s cock a small kitten lick. 

“You have no idea how hard I had to work to not jack off right then and there like a fucking pervert,” Johnny says. “I’d put my earphones on and grip my sheets and do everything in my power to not touch myself.”

This seems to excite Sicheng, who watches him with a sort of possessive heat now. 

“What if I told you I sometimes think of you when I touch myself?” Sicheng asks. “What if I told you that I’ve imagined myself right here, doing this, spread out for you?” 

Johnny doesn’t give a reply. Not with words, anyway. 

He takes the head of Sicheng’s cock in his mouth, gripping it at the base to give it a small squeeze, and Johnny, in his haze, thinks that he could do this forever, be Sicheng’s slave to suck his cock whenever he pleased. Sicheng tastes salty-sweet, the velvet of cock smooth on Johnny’s tongue. 

Sicheng has his hands in Johnny’s damp hair, and he starts to tighten his grip, which makes Johnny’s groan, the vibration causing Sicheng to buck his hips up into Johnny’s mouth, but Johnny is ready. He’s quick. He’s wanted this forever. 

Johnny hollows his cheeks out as he sucks up and off Sicheng’s hardness, and Sicheng has his legs bent at the knees before he starts using his legs to lever up his hips and fuck into Johnny’s mouth. 

Johnny is so, so aroused he can barely think, can barely remember to breathe around the cock that’s almost fully ensheathed in his mouth. He starts to fist his own cock while he balances on all fours, his ass in the air, before Sicheng is pulling him by the hair. 

“Stop-s-stop,” Sicheng says, gasping for breath. 

For a horrific split second, Johnny worries that he’s gone too far, but then Sicheng is pulling him up for a kiss.

“Get on your back,” Sicheng says, and Johnny scrambles to do so, not quite registering what Sicheng wants to do, until Sicheng is crawling to face the foot of the bed, this time poised over Johnny’s dick, and maneuvering his knees to rest on either side of Johnny’s chest. 

_Oh, my fucking God_ , Johnny thinks. 

Johnny very nearly blows his load as soon as his mind catches up, and Sicheng has his lips wrapped around the head of Johnny’s cock. Johnny barely remembers that he is supposed to be sucking Sicheng off, but as soon as he gets a taste of the precum that leaks from the tip of Sicheng’s penis, Johnny remembers, and God, is it worth it. 

Johnny loves sucking cock. He disagrees with Kun that it’s disgusting, because Johnny relishes in the power that it gives him, to know that the person he’s with is coming undone and it’s all within his control, all of him. 

And God, does he love having his cock sucked. 

This is the first time he’s tried this position with anyone, and Johnny’s on edge already, despite only having begun. 

He takes a deep breath and relaxes his throat to accommodate Sicheng’s cock that slides into his mouth, and that causes a groan to escape from Sicheng. 

Johnny’s eyes roll back in their sockets from how good this feels, like Sicheng has found the stray thread of him and he’s pulling and pulling and pulling until there’s nothing left of Johnny. 

“Fuck, Johnny,” Sicheng moans, pulling off and stroking Johnny’s cock with his left hand. “I can hardly fit you in my mouth,” before trying to take in as much of Johnny as he can. 

Johnny can feel the pressure building from Sicheng’s ministrations, Sicheng’s grip just right, just how Johnny likes it, and he’s trying so hard to keep his focus, to make sure that this is just as good for Sicheng, but then he hears Sicheng gag, and feels when Sicheng hollows his own cheeks to suck on Johnny’s dick harder, and Johnny knows he’s seconds away from— 

His jaw goes slack when he feels the lightest brush of teeth, and Johnny only has moments before he manages to choke out an “I’m coming,” and then he’s spilling hot and filthy into Sicheng’s mouth, and Johnny feels like his orgasm is punched out of him, like he’s never cum this hard before. 

He takes Sicheng’s cock back in his mouth as Sicheng continues to pump Johnny’s cock into his mouth, and Johnny can barely function, can barely move, his tongue lapping at the underside of Sicheng’s cock when Sicheng says, “Faster,” and Johnny strokes the base before sucking Sicheng in as far as he can handle. 

Sicheng is loud, louder than Johnny had ever expected, babbling words in between tonguing at Johnny’s over-sensitive dick, filthy things like “I love your mouth,” and “can’t wait to fuck you” and “you’re perfect, you suck cock like a pro,” and it’s so much, it’s so much, Johnny’s gonna lose his mind and he wants for Sicheng to lose his. 

They turn on their side so Johnny has more control over his movements, propping himself up on one elbow to give him more freedom to fondle Sicheng’s balls while he fucks faster into Johnny’s mouth, breath heavy. 

Sicheng says, “Close, I’m so fucking close,” and then Johnny is jacking him in earnest, his fingers encircling his length while he sucks on the head of Sicheng’s cock, until Sicheng groans a drawn out “Fuck! I’m—“ and Johnny thinks that no nectar could taste as good as Sicheng’s cum does as he explodes in Johnny’s mouth. 

Never, never at all, in Johnny’s wildest dreams, did he think that he would get to have this, get to taste Sicheng like this, and he could get lost in it, considers briefly the joys of being Sicheng’s servant, hell-bent on making sure that Sicheng gets nothing but pleasure. 

Sicheng pulls his hips away gently, and then he’s on Johnny in an instant, kissing Johnny until they’re both breathless. 

It should be disgusting, the fact that they’re tasting each other on their tongues, that there’s still some of Johnny’s cum on Sicheng’s chest where he’d not been able to catch it, but Johnny is intoxicated, drunk on the heady feeling of Sicheng’s tongue sliding against his. 

They pull away slowly, both of them still gasping for air, trying to find purchase, hands in each other’s hair, on their waists. 

Johnny opens his eyes, traces the features on the other man’s face like he hasn’t spent the last year and a half doing so. 

A slow smile spreads out on Sicheng’s face, soft where just moments ago there had been rapture of an almost violent sort. 

“Hi,” Sicheng says, his breath finally catching up with him. 

“Hi,” Johnny replies, stroking his hand over Sicheng’s arm lightly. 

“That was—“ 

“Yeah,” Johnny laughs, cupping Sicheng’s jaw. “Yeah, that was.” 

They kiss again, hearts beating steady in tandem, until they drift off. 

-

Sicheng stirs awake, and it’s to the sound of Johnny’s soft snoring, which is normal for him, except this time it’s not from the other bed, but right under him, his ear pressed to Johnny’s chest. 

He glances at the little clock illuminating 6:27 on the bedside table, and he realises that they’ve slept through most of the day. 

Sicheng moves slowly, careful not to jostle Johnny awake. He slides out of bed and quietly opens the door to head to the bathroom and run two hand towels under the water, making a mental note to wash them with soap later to hang out to dry before they head home in the morning. Sorry, Jungwoo.

There are hickeys all over his neck, on his chest, and it makes Sicheng smile to himself, his thighs aching pleasantly from the swimming and the-- well. Sicheng can’t help the smile that appears on his face when he remembers the afternoon’s activities, and he knows that there is going to be a long conversation when Johnny wakes up, but he’s giddy in a contained sort of way, excited about the prospect of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow with Johnny. 

He heads back to the bedroom where Johnny is just coming to, his eyes blinking sleepily in the low light streaming in from the living room. Sicheng takes light steps to the bed, where Johnny has his arm out, waiting for Sicheng to come into his embrace. 

“Did you sleep okay?” Sicheng asks, just like always, just like they’re back in the dorms and Johnny’s just woken up from a bad dream, just like a thousand other mornings they’ve shared together, except this is different, isn’t it? 

The gravity of the shift in their relationship hits both of them slowly, evident in how Johnny looks up at Sicheng with an open adoration that Sicheng has always seen a muted version of. To have it turned on him and him alone now feels like a freight train, like his body is a flag flying in the wind, like he’s stood on the top of a mountain that only he and Johnny occupy. 

Johnny reaches out with his other hand to cup Sicheng’s jaw and bring him closer. Johnny looks sleep-soft and Sicheng is in love, he is so, so in love, so he says so, whispers it against Johnny’s lips, tossing the wet face towels to the side in lieu of kissing this man, his best friend, quite possibly the love of his life. 

“I love you, too,” Johnny replies, voice low, ragged, full of wonder. “You knew this, but I’m saying it again because I can now.” 

Sicheng pulls away and hands Johnny the other towel to clean himself off. 

“We’ve got a lot of talking to do, Dong Sicheng,” Johnny says, his eyes half-moons as he teases Sicheng. 

“I figured as much, Seo. No rush though,” Sicheng replies. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

-

And they do.

Time moves slowly as they get dressed again, and as they play music and get to preparing dinner, Sicheng doing a vegetable stir fry and Johnny handling the dak galbi. It’s like every other night that they’ve spent together in their dorm, cooking together and singing along to whatever playlist suits their fancy. Tonight is Lizzo night, on Johnny’s insistence, and Johnny can’t help himself, doing a little hip-thrusty dance to 'Juice' against Sicheng’s ass who laughs and turns to face him while they lean on the kitchen counter and punctuate their too-loud singing with kisses. 

They eat, and they talk, and Johnny flirts shamelessly while he asks Sicheng question after question, about how it was like for him, how he arrived aat the realisation that Johnny was right after all, (“I think I take it back, I didn’t think you’d be this smug about it,” Sicheng says, while Johnny does a little twist like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction and chants, “You _looooove_ me, you really really _loooove_ me.”)

They squeeze into the couch, with Sicheng’s back against the armrest and his legs laid out across Johnny’s thighs, Johnny’s thumbs pressing into the soles of Sicheng’s feet while they talk. 

Johnny decides on a little exercise and pulls up a PDF of a set of questions that are supposedly designed to make two people fall in love with each other.

“Johnny,” Sicheng says, smiling at the other man fondly. “I’m already there, or did you not get the memo?”

Johnny rolls his eyes. 

“Look, man, I’ve spent the better part of the year thinking I had zero chances with you,” Johnny says. “I know so much about you, and I still feel like there’s so much more to know.”

Sicheng ducks his head to blush, and then nods, letting out a long-suffering sigh like the time Johnny had insisted they catch the last full show to a movie Sicheng had no interest in watching whatsoever. (It had been ‘Hereditary’ and Johnny had spent half the movie with his face behind his hands while Sicheng laughed at all the gory parts.)

“Okay, hit me with the first question, Romeo,” Sicheng says. 

“‘Given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest?’” Johnny reads aloud from his phone. 

Sicheng wiggles his feet, a reminder that Johnny is supposed to be massaging them like he’d promised, and thinks. 

“I’d invite Hegel,” Sicheng says, and Johnny laughs, because he’d expected this answer, and Sicheng does not disappoint. “Want to pick his brain apart, know how he came up with his shit, you know?”

“I know, you’re the biggest fanboy of his I know,” Johnny says placatingly as he uses his knuckle to press into the balls of Sicheng’s feet. 

“How about you?” Sicheng replies. 

Johnny is silent for a bit. 

“I would take my grandad out to dinner, I think,” Johnny says. “He was an interesting man, but I never got to meet him. All I had were stories from dad about how he’d worked himself hunched over to provide for the family, and he ran the knife cut noodles stand until he died. He turned the luck around for the Seos. Everyone I talk to remembers him fondly.” 

Sicheng holds his hand out, and waits for Johnny to take it so he can bring it closer to his lips and press a small kiss on the back of Johnny’s hand. 

“That’s sweet, Johnny,” Sicheng says. “I’m sure he’d be proud of you now.”

“It’s nice to believe so,” Johnny says with a wry smile. “Okay, next question: would you like to be famous? In what way?”

“Jesus,” Sicheng says. “No never, please never. I’d hate to be famous, I’d hate to have people prying into my life.”

“Yeah, same,” Johnny says. “I’m content like this. I mean okay, maybe if I was a k-pop idol or something then I’d be able to afford a Rolex instead of the knockoff I wear, but I’d rather have my privacy.”

“Glad we agree that we’ll never be a famous couple then,” Sicheng says, and Johnny’s insides twist pleasantly. Couple. They’re a couple.

They go through the questions, eventually shifting positions so Johnny can lie down with his head on Sicheng’s lap, while Sicheng runs his fingers through Johnny’s copper hair.

“If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?” Sicheng reads aloud. “Hmm, if you had asked me this yesterday, I would have confessed sooner.”

Johnny bites his lower lip. 

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because I had a year to take a leap with you and I kept putting it off, finding reasons not to,” Sicheng says, voice steady despite how softly he’s speaking now. “I’m still not sure-- not about us, but about how much I deserve you, because God knows that my worry is that you should be with someone better than me.”

At this, Johnny sits up, and very seriously takes Sicheng’s startled face in both his hands. 

“I had a year to get over you and I couldn’t,” Johnny says quietly. “And wouldn’t. Don’t tell me about who deserves what, Sicheng. At the end of the day, you’re who I want to come home to. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.”

Sicheng is a man who overthinks, Johnny knows this. Knows that in the greater scheme of things, Sicheng will take more time to let things go, will take more time to go over question after question instead of winging it the way Johnny is more wont to do. 

“You wanna come home to me, Johnny Seo?” Sicheng smiles, and Johnny would have missed the tear he’d wiped away if he hadn’t been looking just that second. 

“I want to come home to you, and hear you complain about your students,” Johnny says. “Want to wake up every morning like we do and make you your breakfast bagel and my breakfast waffles and have you berate me for eating too many sweets.” 

Johnny reclines, dragging Sicheng up with him. The couch is so small that he has to bend his knees a bit to fit, and Sicheng has to straddle him to squeeze into the tiny space, but he’s looking down at Johnny with that smile reserved just for him.

“You wanna know how I’d live my life if I knew at the end of this year I was going to kick the bucket?” Johnny asks, running his fingers across Sicheng’s arms and collar bones as he speaks. “Just like this.”

“With me on top of you?” Sicheng teases.

“Exactly like this,” Johnny replies. 

Sicheng kisses him. 

-

Johnny loads the last of their belongings into the trunk of his car, and takes one last look at the blue house with wind-weathered doors. The swinging bench they’d sat on sways gently as the morning breeze blows through the beach. 

He snaps a photo of it, similar to the one he’d taken when they’d arrived. 

When he slides into the driver’s seat, Sicheng already has Johnny’s phone hooked to the aux cord, scrolling through the music like Johnny had asked. 

They’re both still sleepy, tired from having spent all night talking, and playing with each other in bed, stroking each other to completion over and over until Sicheng had watched the sun’s rays begin to creep in through the curtains, the sky outside beautiful and pink. 

They pull out from the beachfront and get back on the highway setting out for home. 

From the speakers, ‘First Day of My Life’ plays. 

Johnny cruises at a comfortable 80 mph. 

He reaches over and takes Sicheng’s hand while he drives. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [twt](https://twitter.com/johnnyseo_paws) :)


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